


love at first disaster

by estivaate



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, help me, i dont know why i wrote this, the kind of meet your soulmate au where horrible things befall you when you meet them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estivaate/pseuds/estivaate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompto is pretty sure that, when he meets his soulmate (should he live that long), it is going to be what kills him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love at first disaster

**Author's Note:**

> All thanks to [ this](http://quiicksilvershot.tumblr.com/post/119897115193/powerfulweak-i-always-see-these-really-sweet) post on tumblr. I HAD TO WRITE IT.
> 
> I am so sorry. I am also Promptis trash now. Perfect.
> 
> Also this was written and posted under the influence of copious amounts of caffeine and a really shoddy attempt to edit. Sorry for ALL the fails.

Prompto, for all his smiles and bravado, was actually completely _terrified_ of meeting his soul mate. Like, to the bone, holy shit what will I even do, will I survive this encounter, kind of terror that he was pretty sure should only be reserved for facing particularly vicious sabertusks, or a behemoth.

In his mind, he would really rather meet a behemoth.

Now, most people had some reservations and foreboding about meeting their soulmate; it was a thing since, well, accidents and potential injury were imminent. There was always some kind of disaster when you first met your soulmate, nothing life threatening of course because wouldn’t _that_ just suck, but something. When his parents had met, his mother broke three fingers in her left hand, fractured her knee and dropped a wedding cake down a flight of stairs (she was only supposed to move it, but…). His father managed to ruin his good suit and gain a black eye from a wedding cake topper, but fared far better. That was usually how it went. Chaos.

But Prompto? He was pretty sure that he was gonna die upon meeting his other half, like, full out fall down a flight of stairs onto pointy rocks below kind of die. Or maybe somehow manage to shoot himself whilst tripping over a chair. Or maybe—

“Hey, you coming?”

The blond blinks a few times, visions of his violent death by his natural clumsiness and soulmate dispelled as he looks up at Noctis who was staring at him blankly.

“Uh, what?”

The sigh that the blond gets in response to his confusion is laden with ‘why am I friends with you again?’. 

“Are. You. Coming?”

Prompto just stares, trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to be going with his best friend today. He was pretty sure that it was Thursday and not Friday, so the bar was out of the question…

His thoughts must have been obvious on his face because Noctis rolled his eyes and smacked Prompt lightly in the side of the head. “We’re meeting my old friend from Insomnia, remember? You said you were coming with me… Prompto…”

“Oh! Shit— yeah, um. Just—“ The blond all but falls out of the chair that he had been sprawled in, hair askew from having his head pressed against the arm of the chair for so long. He has begun his afternoon playing games on his phone (or, if you asked him, _studying_ ), but it eventually just turned into him absently scrolling through the internet, and finally, him just coming up with all the horrible ways that he could die when meeting his soulmate.

It was clear to Noctis that the blond had forgotten about their exclusion entirely. He crosses his arms and leans against the desk that is under the window and watches with a quiet amusement as the blond shuffles towards the closet to put on something other than torn up jeans and a white shirt. “You might want to dress different— Oh whatever…“

Prompto spins around, his usual attire in his clutches in time to see Noctis shaking his head before motioning him to hurry the hell up. The blond quirks a brow, opens his mouth to retort with something but the look on the other’s face stops him and has him scurrying away to get dressed as fast as possible. They were already late, at least Prompto assumes that they were judging by the impatient tapping of Noctis’ foot and the way the darker haired male kept checking the time. So that left Prompto with mussed hair and slightly wrinkled clothing as they made their way to one of Insomnia’s more famous restaurants, _The Regency_.

“Wait, we are meeting him _where_?” The tone of Prompto’s voice might make one think that he was whining, but— okay, he was whining. The blond gave a quiet crying noise and draped himself over Noctis’ shoulder as they made their way across the campus grounds. Noctis just gave him a smirk and ignored him.

Yeah, maybe Prompto should have taken a bit more time to do his hair. Or at least find a shirt that was ironed. 

_The Regency_ was one of those restaurants that you always heard about as a student but never actually managed to go to because it was, more or less, about as expensive as one year of schooling. It was a place that Prompto had only heard about through word of mouth, but he probably should have seen this coming what with Noctis being the crowned prince and all. His friend was probably stupidly rich too, which left the blond feeling like an awkward third wheel before the dinner even began.

“Man, I can’t believe you left me leave in this! I thought we were friends! They are gonna kick me out on sight, friend of you or not!” Prompto gestures wildly, nearly tripping over a slight bump in the sidewalk as he did. “And your friend is gonna hate me, not all the upper class citizens can see my amazingness, you know.”

Much to Prompto’s chagrin, Noctis doesn’t indulge him in his whining. The prince just rolls his eyes and continues walking, as if the dramatically gesturing and petulant blond nearly clinging to him was a regular occurrence. Which, come to think of it, it was.

Prompto doesn’t stop his whining until they reach the restaurant, some ten minutes later, when he has to detached himself from Noctis for images’ sake and try not to look like the somewhat mischievous twenty year old that he was. 

The look given to him by the maitre de let it be known that he utterly failed at the endeavour.

“For the love of… You owe me for this, Noct! That guy looked at me like I was going to burn the place down!” Whispered Prompto, leaning in close behind the prince as they were lead to a table.

“Well, are you going to? I know you are rather fond of fire…” Prompto can see the smirk on Noctis’ face from the side and he makes a strangled noise in response. So much faith in him, so much faith.

He doesn’t get to respond though, as the waiter stops and, with a nasally voice and a bow that made Prompto want to mock him, motioned towards an empty table.

“Your guest has yet to arrive, sir. Though he did call and say that, due to some unforeseen circumstances, he shall be a few minutes late.” The man’s eyes slid to Prompto and the blond swears that he sneers. “Shall I bring the wine list?”

Noctis must agree, because then he is gone, Prompto still standing and mentally berating the asshole in his head until Noctis kicks him in the ankle.

“Ow! What was… oh. Sitting. Right. Um…” He pulls out a chair (he notes that his wasn’t pulled out, pompous git) and drops himself into it with none of the grace he should have in this place before idly starting to toy with the cutlery on the table. There was a lot more of it than he was used to.

“So, your friend, what’s his name again?”

“Ignis.”

“Ignis. Right. And you’ve known him how long?”

Noctis makes a face then shrugs. “Since I was about three? I don’t know, he’s my advisor. He was supposed to come here with me, but I managed to convince them an advisor following me around would only make being ‘normal’ harder.”

Prompto nods at that, already conjuring images of a mousy haired geek with glasses and a plain suit in his head. Or maybe an older guy, with more wrinkles than hair follicles with a plain vest. Or—

“Surprised you never met him, actually. He used to be there when I was in high school all the time.” Noctis turns from Prompto as a new pompous water arrives with a wine list and three crystal glasses filled with water. Or vodka, who knew here. “Though he was in an enriched program for gifted students, and older than us.”

“…sounds like a great ball of fun. I can see why you made friends with me now.” The blond wasn’t looking at Noctis, instead focused on the ice cubes that were in his glass. “Wait, are the ice cubes made of bloody _crystal_?”

Noctis rolled his eyes and lifted the glass with a practiced ease that Prompto envied.

“This is so not my scene, Noct. Like, wow. I’m gonna break a glass and have to drop out of school or some shit.”

That makes Noctis laugh. “I don’t think so, but try to avoid any major damage. “

The blond sighs and turns back to the glass before pushing back from the table. “Point me to the restroom, I should probably try to salvage my hair so I don’t make a completely horrible impression on your damn advisor.”

Noctis gestures vaguely to the back left corner of the restaurant and Prompto sent off. He ignores the stares and looks that he gets, more than aware of just how people were looking at him. He didn’t look like he belonged here at all. Hell, he barely even made it into the university, only his stellar marks and friendship with Noctis managed to get him in, managed to have the university look past more than one less than favourable mark in his past. Did he have a chip on his shoulder? Maybe. But he was more than aware of how the world worked, how Insomnia worked.

There is a valiant attempt on his part of tame his hair, but there is only so much that water and insistence can do before you have to admit defeat. Heaving a sigh, Prompto gave one last look of derision to the mirror before making his way back to the table.

Here was to hoping that this didn’t all go to hell in a hand basket.

Prompto should know better than to hope for such things.

The blond is nearly back to the table, trickles of water still making their way down his neck and into the collar of his shirt, when he realizes that there is someone else seated at the table with Noctis. He isn’t, as Prompto imagined, balding. Or mousy haired for that matter. He has light brown hair that is perfectly styled and —

That is as far as Prompto manages to notice before his vision is suddenly filled with the black and white uniform of a waiter. A waiter carrying a large tray with something that was on fire. A large tray that, of course, manages to upturn itself the moment the waiter crosses paths with the thought distracted Prompto who doesn’t react fast enough to stop himself from crashing into said waiter.

There is a brief moment where Prompto wonders how hilarious it would be if he _did_ manage to light the whole place on fire through spilled flambé before he is registering that he is now covered in an assortment of foods, and _on fire_.

“Holy shit—!”

Whether the collision caught Noctis’ attention or the profanity, Prompto will never know, but he is aware (as he rolls around on the floor trying to extinguish the flames of someone’s dinner from destroying his second favourite shirt) of the prince _laughing_ even as he gets up to help the blond and the waiter.

“I told you not to set this place on fire!”

Prompto can only screech in response (he is on fire, okay, he is allowed to make inhumane noises of duress right now) as the flames just move their way up his body towards his beautiful, if not messy, hair. 

“Well well, this is an exciting first meeting.”

The voice is accented and post and Prompto cringes at hearing it, but he doesn’t have long to focus on it because _his hair is almost on fire thank you_.

And then— then it isn’t.

Just as quickly as Prompto found himself on the ground, on fire and covered in food, he finds himself soaking wet and overshadowed by someone that he knows is not Noctis.

Prompto blinks a few times, blinking the ice cold water that had been dumped on him from his eyes (along with some bangs, there goes his attempt to tame his hair) and looking up from the ground to see—

“Shit.”

Well, at least he managed to get the glasses right.

Ignis was, it turns out, not old, or bald, or mousy, he was— well, damn, he was actually really hot. In that ‘I am smarter and richer and better than you’ kind of way. And he had just doused Prompto in a pitcher of water from a table near theirs and this was really, really, _really_ not the impression that he wanted to give off. Not that he could change it now. Then again, he didn’t seem to be paying any attention at all to Prompto as he sputtered and gaped on the floor in a puddle, but was rather preoccupied making sure that Noctis was okay and hadn’t been somehow stabbed by a flying knife.

“I’m _fine_ Ignis, just let me— C’mon, we should help Prompto up.”

It seems that then, at Noctis’ behest, that the advisor turns his attention (and his really nice eyes) towards the blond. Prompto can practically _hear_ the litany of derision in the advisor’s mind at the look he gives. It makes his hackles raise immediately and he pointedly ignores the hand that Noctis holds out for him.

“‘M fine. Just— wet. Ugh, this sucks.” He looks down and silently thanks whatever might be listening for his shirt not being white because then that would be really terrible. He shoots Noctis a small grin as he shakes the water from his hair and ignores Ignis. “Told you this was not my thing, man.”

“I did ask for him to bring you, Prompto. You are his closest friend, and I was looking forward to meeting you.” 

The blond blinks at Noctis, the prince trying to hide a smile behind his hand, and Prompto turns, slowly, on his heel to look at Ignis.

Well, at least that was his plan. The blond’s foot manages to magically defy physics, become frictionless on the wet floor, and slide out from under him with all the grace of a drunk chocobo. There must be terror on his face, because Ignis looks startled for a moment before he is reaching out to grab at Prompto’s hand, only to somehow completely miss and end up succumbing to gravity as well and landing on the floor in a tangle of limbs and wet clothes.

Noctis, the bastard, just stands there and laughs. _Laughs_. Prompto glares up at him as best he can with Ignis’ elbow in his ribcage, breath whooshing out of him in a pitiful wheezing noise, but finds that it’s really hard when Ignis is trying to get up, using Prompto as a crutch and, didn’t anyone tell him Prompto was a fragile creature?

Noctis laughs harder when Ignis’ plan fails miserably and he ends up sprawled on Prompto, the blond cursing loudly and whining until someone (who was not the prince) managed to lift the two gentleman up from the floor.

“Bloody great help you are, Noct.” Prompto is grumbling, fingers prodding at the bruise he can feel forming on his elbow from the second fall and tries to quell the rising flush that he can feel on his face.

“But— But— Oh Etro, Iggy, he’s—“ Noctis then becomes completely useless as he sinks into a chair and proceeds to laugh until he cries.

Prompto doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand why Noctis is finding this hilarious because, for Prompto, shit like this happens a lot. Well, maybe not this bad, but—

Oh.

 _Oh_.

The penny drops and the blond turns his head to look at the other man; he’s not as put together looking as he was when he first stood over Prompto. His hair is a mess, and his suit is no longer in perfect lines, his glasses are askew (until he rights them, at least), and he looks completely flustered about everything.

He is still attractive, Prompto thinks, blue eyes following along the lines of his figure. The guy probably still thinks Prompto is an idiot, a plebeian and a graceless moron, but—

“Well, that was not the first meeting I was hoping for, but I shall manage.” Ignis tugs the sleeves of his suit jacket down before tilting his head to look at Prompto, and the blond swears there is a blush on his face as he holds out a hand to Prompto. “ Ignis Scientia, pleasure to finally meet you, Prompto.”

“Uh… you too… Ignis.”

Well, the restaurant didn’t get lit on fire, and Prompto didn’t die, so maybe he shouldn’t have been so worried about the whole meeting your soulmate thing.


End file.
